Getting Serious
by ardavenport
Summary: Captain Stanley has a talk with Johnny about accidents and Johnny takes it to heart. But sometimes ...... things just happen.
1. Chapter 1

**GETTING SERIOUS**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 1**

"Gage, can you step into the office for a minute?"

On his way from the squad to Station Fifty-One's dayroom, Fireman-Paramedic John Gage whirled around at the sound of Captain Stanley's voice.

"Sure, Cap."

Hank Stanley did not particularly care for talks like these. And there was definitely something wrong with the psyche of anyone who did. But it was part of being a Captain. He sat down at his desk.

"Close the door, will ya?"

Gage froze for a fraction of a second, his expression instantly turning wary before he whirled around to close the door.

"Sure, Cap." His smile looked a little forced when he turned back.

"Have a seat." I'm not going to bite your head off, ya twit.

Gage dragged the wooden chair over and sat.

"So, how's the victim doing from the last run?"

"Oh, fine, Cap." Immediately, he became animated again. "Well, he's got a broken kneecap and a lot of bruises, but the docs said he should recover just fine."

Stanley nodded. "Well, that's good to hear." He had gotten off lucky after the workers in a machine shop had tried to move a heavy stamping machine without disconnecting it from the power, a ridiculously stupid move that led to the accident that required a call to the fire department for help. "It got a little close for a minute back there." He glanced at the bruise on Gage's right forearm.

"A little when he got hung up there. But I was able to get him free and pull him out." He finished with a cocky grin.

"Is there any reason why you couldn't move up the blocks that were right there before sticking your arm in there to get him loose?"

Gage's grin faltered. "Well, we had to get him out right away. He was bleeding and, uh . . . "

Stanley finally saw in his eyes that he was figuring out what his Captain was getting at.

"It would have taken only a second. And if that machinery had slipped, it wouldn't have just landed on his leg, it would have crushed your arm. And I don't think the doctors at Rampart would have been able to fix that up."

"Uuuh, . . . . . I guess, . . . . I mean, Cap, I was just, . . . .uuuh, . . . . what I meant to do was, . . . .uuuh, . . . . I, uh, I guess, I just didn't think about it. Cap."

"And this isn't the first time you've been careless lately. You hurt your ribs a couple weeks ago climbing that ladder."

"Oh, well, Cap, the rungs on that ladder were really slippery."

Stanley raised his brows at that excuse. "Yeah, I noticed that Roy didn't have any problem with it when he went up after you. He just went up a little slower. And if that had been a real person up there instead of some kid's prank dummy, you would have just slowed down the rescue."

Letting Gage squirm for a few seconds, the Captain sat back in his own chair.

"Now, I can't swear that I wouldn't have done exactly the same thing that you did. Stick my hand in there without thinking. It's perfectly natural to want to get right in there." He grasped forward with his hand. "And that's when accidents happen."

"Yeah, Cap." Tense, but attentive, Gage sat with his hands in his lap.

"Now, I don't want you to be second guessing yourself all the time, especially on a run." Sitting forward again, elbows on the arms of his own chair, he spread his hands. "We wouldn't get anything done if we did that. Right?"

"Right, Cap."

"On the other hand, you're not second guessing yourself by making yourself aware of the safer options available to you at the moment. Am I right?'

"Right, Cap."

"Good. Because I want you to think about that when we're doing ladder drills this afternoon. That's when you should be thinking about these kinds of things. When we're training. When you've got time to weigh all the options. If you do that now, you're a lot more likely to see the safer option right in front of you in the middle of a crisis when you don't have time to think before acting.

I don't want to fill out any more accident reports on you, especially when it could be prevented."

Gage at least looked like he was thinking about it.

"Well, that's all I wanted to say. I'm going to tell everyone else the same thing for the drills, but after this morning I thought you might benefit from a little preview."

Gage nodded. "I appreciate that, Cap."

"Good." He turned his chair back toward his desk. "It's your turn to cook lunch today, isn't it?"

"Uh, no, it's Roy's turn. I told him I'd help peel the potatoes." He pushed his chair back and got up.

"Good. Leave the door open."

Gage left.

Stanley exhaled. Would it work? Probably. Maybe.

John Gage was a good man, a good firefighter. But his eagerness could get him killed, or worse permanently disabled. He talked about doing other things besides being a paramedic, but nothing had ever come of any of his grand plans. Captain Stanley doubted that he had any idea what else he would do if being a paramedic were taken away from him. If coming down hard on him in training would head off that possibility, Stanley would happily nail him to the wall.

He opened a packet of department memos and started reading.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**GETTING SERIOUS**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 2**

Whatever Captain Stanley had said, Johnny Gage wasn't talking about it. Roy had casually asked about it and got a mumbled 'oh, nothing' in response. After the potatoes were peeled and boiling on the stove he was gone to sulk on the couch with a manual about ladder techniques. Everyone else had other things to do. The Captain worked in his office, it's was Chet's turn for latrine duty and Stoker was refueling the engine. When Marco came in looking for the newspaper, Johnny just handed it to him without a word. Roy finished with the chicken and gravy and canned beans alone.

It wasn't any of his business what Captain Stanley said to Johnny. But he still wondered about it.

Johnny did help set the table and then moodily ate lunch. Stoker lost the hand of poker afterward for doing the dishes and the rest of them started setting up for the ladder drills in the parking lot behind the station. But the squad got a run before they started. A man fell off a ladder in his living room. He had a history of back problems and a hysterical wife. They transported him on a back board to the hospital.

At the hospital base station Roy caught his partner staring glumly down into the open drug box.

"Syringes."

He didn't move.

Roy held the sealed packets under his nose. "Syringes."

Starting, Johnny pulled his head back before he took them. "Oh." He put them away in their slot.

"Is that it?" He didn't really sound interested.

"Yeah." Roy closed the top of the black box over the white fold-out trays. "Come on." He picked up the box and walked away down the hall toward the emergency entrance. Johnny followed a pace behind.

"We should still be able to get in on the tail end of the ladder drills."

"Oh, yeah. That." Johnny opened the passenger door of the squad and got in with no further comment.

"I thought you would be all fired up to get to those drills. You sure found that manual real interesting."

"Yeah." He just looked out the window at the empty parking space next to them.

Sighing, Roy started up the squad. "Yeah."

He didn't bother with any more attempts at conversation on the drive back to the fire station. It had to have something to do with whatever Captain Stanley had talked to him about. Whatever it was, it would come out sooner or later. Johnny Gage could only stew over something for so long before it boiled over. The question was how long he would have to put up with his partner's moodiness.

Johnny rubbed his forearm where it was bruised, his elbow resting on the car door.

It definitely had to be about the morning run.

Things had gotten a little dangerous when the industrial machine they had been lifting off the victim slipped, almost landing with its full weight on the leg of the man trapped under it. And Johnny's arm. It was a natural reflex, reach in a grab something. Get the job done. Fast. But it probably could have been done without risking breaking Johnny's arm. Or worse.

That had to be it.

Roy drove down the main street toward the station, slowed and then backed into the driveway. Johnny got out of the squad as soon as Roy stopped inside the station apparatus bay. The rear door was wide open, the engine crew still in the back parking lot. Stanley greeted them.

"Just in time."

They went over the elementary stuff. Getting the ladder off the engine as quickly as possible, extending it, standing it up against the building, one climbing, one steadying it. Then they went on to other things with two ladders together and carrying techniques. Each of them one-stepped halfway up the rungs with the other on his back. Everyone else had been through the drill already, so they provided the commentary for the paramedics' performance. Roy could have done without Chet's remarks about how much heavier he was than Johnny when he was twenty feet up off the ground, hanging over his partner's shoulders. But Johnny kept his whole attention on the task while on the ladder, not responding at all to the others' jokes.

Roy thought that Captain Stanley's praise for their performance might break the ice. But Johnny went right back to sulking all the way through dinner. Obviously the Captain didn't think that there was anything serious to worry about. But Johnny was taking it - - whatever it was - - hard.

The station got a run just after 7 PM. A grease fire destroyed a family's kitchen, but they were able to save the house. The father got first and second degree burns on his arms trying to put it out with a garden hose. They were driving back to the station by 9 PM. Johnny remained glum. Again, Roy caught him rubbing the bruise on his arm.

Was it too soon to ask about it? Had Johnny sulked about it long enough? Roy was all but certain that it wasn't anything serious. Johnny was just taking it seriously. Given enough time, he would work through all the rationalities. Or irrationalities. Roy just wasn't sure which was worse, a moping partner, or all the crazy melodrama that might come out when Johnny finally talked about it.

The station crew was watching a lawyer show when they got back, wooden chairs gathered around the TV set on the shelf at the darkened end of the dayroom. Even though they missed the beginning, it wasn't hard to figure out who was covering up for who and who was guilty. After that they all turned in. There was no bedtime set by the department, but the morning alarm went off a 6 AM, so Captain Stanley tended to turn in around 10 or 11 PM and except for an occasional late night movie session, most of them did the same.

Roy was sound asleep when the alarm went off.

Oooooooeeeeeeee-mmmmaaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

"Engine Fifty-One. Rubbish fire behind the clothing factory. Three-Twenty West Longview. Three-Twenty West Longview. Cross street, Tremont. Time out: Twelve Fifty-Four."

Roy and Johnny were up, out of bed with their boots, pants and suspenders pulled up before they realized that the call wasn't for them. The engine crew hurried out to the apparatus bay. The fire engine started up. The garage door rolled up, the siren started and they were gone. Johnny went out to close the garage door.

Roy yawned and waited for Johnny to come back before he flipped the light switch off and went back to bed. Both of them repositioned their boots and pants before climbing back in under the covers. Roy saw Johnny holding his arm up, rubbing it in the light coming in through the frosted window.

"Is that bothering you?" Roy finally gave up on waiting.

"Huh?" Roy couldn't see details in the gloom, but Johnny turned his face toward him.

"Your arm. From this morning. You keep touching it. Is it bothering you?"

"Oh." He laid his arm down over the covers on his chest. "No, no. That's not it."

Roy stared up at the ceiling and hoped that he would not regret this. "So what is bothering you? You've been dragging your feet around all day."

"Oh, it's nothing."

Roy stared up at the ceiling. Plain white, but dark gray in the gloom.

"Except . . . ."

Roy exhaled, waiting for more.

"You think you do a good job. And then all of a sudden. Right when you're not looking. You get . . . . put down for it." Roy could see the silhouette of both his hands gesturing as he talked to the ceiling.

"Is that what the Captain wanted to talk to you about before lunch?" Roy folded his arms over his chest, over the blanket.

"Yeah."

Roy waited again. With no curtains on the window, like he had at home, the dormitory was never really dark. And the station was in an industrial neighborhood; there were a lot of lights around. But it was dark enough for a fire house, where the alarm could go off, getting everyone out of bed at any time.

"The Cap said that I shouldn't have just stuck my arm in to get that guy out. That I should have braced it with the block first."

"Oh. Well. Cap's right."

"Well. . . . . I know that!" Johnny blurted out his frustrated admission in the semi-dark on the other side of the window between their two beds. "I just didn't think. . . . . I just . . . . don't like getting put down for it."

"Captain really chewed you out, then."

"Well, . . . . . . no. Not really. I mean, he wasn't mad or anything. He just said he didn't want to fill out any more accident reports on me."

Roy glanced to his left. Johnny lay in the shadows, aggressively glaring up at the ceiling.

"Well, can you blame him?"

Johnny put his arm behind his head. "No . . . . . . . I guess not." Now he sounded resigned.

"And it's no picnic having to treat you in the field and take you into Rampart, either."

Throwing his arm back down, Johnny lifted his head. "Well. . . . . . same to you!"

Roy chuckled. "Yeah, that's no picnic, either." He wondered if the sulking and drama were over now.

Oooooooeeeeeeee-mmmmaaaaahhhh - BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!

"Squad Fifty-One. Assist Engine Fifty-one with burn victim. At the clothing factory. Three-Twenty West Longview. Three-Twenty West Longview. Cross street, Tremont. Time out: One Twenty-Seven."

**

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- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**GETTING SERIOUS**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 3**

The squad pulled into the rear parking lot of a modest industrial building. The engine was there, red light flashing. Next to a large pile of smoking trash that Stoker, Lopez and Kelly were breaking down. The asphalt was dark and wet, the fire hose lying on the ground nearby.

Captain Stanley and a rather portly, gray-haired man in a gray night-watchman's uniform stood over a man in dark clothes sitting on a patch of dry grass by the parking lot. But as Roy rolled to a stop, Stanley came jogging around the front of the squad to the passenger side. He made a crocked finger gesture. Puzzled, Johnny got out, leaving his fire helmet on the seat. Roy did the same, coming around the back end of the squad. They met there, three men in gray turnout coats in the slightly cool night air.

Stanley poked a thumb back toward the man that the watchman still stood over.

"We were just finishing up with the fire, when the night-watchman here caught this guy watching us from the bushes. He's got burns on his arms and he _says_ he tried to put the fire out, but he won't give his name and the guy's got sawdust on his pants."

Gage and DeSoto exchanged looks.

"Do you think he's that fire bug, Cap?" Johnny kept his voice low. Over the past six months, there had been a few suspicious trash fires in the area, set by an amateur who used sawdust and rubbing alcohol to get them started.

"Yeah, and it looks like he got a taste of his own medicine this time. I've already called the sheriff's department but they're not here yet. I told him we could fix up his burns, but while you're doing that make sure that he doesn't leave until the deputies get here."

"Right, Cap."

They got out the drug box and biophone and walked around the squad to the injured man.

Captain Stanley took a position nearby, standing with the night-watchman between the man and the street. Roy and Johnny crouched on either side of him. He looked young, mid-twenties, sandy hair under a black knit cap. He kept nervously looking from one to the other of them, his arms clutched to his chest. Johnny could see the charring on the sleeves of his dark jacket and gray shirt.

Johnny grinned broadly at him. "Hey, how're you doing? My name's John Gage. My partner here is Roy DeSoto. What's your name?"

"Oh, I'm fine, really, I just, uh, was just passing by and I saw the fire and tried to put it out, but when I saw the fire engine coming I thought I'd get out of your way . . . "

Johnny pushed back the sleeve nearest to him while the man babbled. Roy did the same on his side. The man winced and his eyes nervously eyed the glowering fire Captain in heavy turnout coat and helmet, standing guard nearby.

His burns were real, red and blistering over ten percent of his forearms, wrists and hands. Not bad, but serious enough. Johnny opened the biophone and set up the antenna.

"First and second degree burns. Those must really smart. You're going to have to go to the hospital." Roy opened the drug box.

"Oh, no. They're really not that bad. They-they really don't hurt that much. I mean if you just put a bandage on it I'll be fine. You don't need to do anything special for me."

Johnny could see him breathing fast. And sweating. He had avoided giving them his name. And there was no way that those kinds of burns weren't hurting. A lot. He clicked on the biophone.

"Rampart, this is Squad Fifty-One, how do you read?"

Something grabbed his collar, pulling him off balance. Johnny had a brief flash of Roy's head coming at him, then the impact, and sound, of their skulls hitting each other. The grip on his collar let go and he fell to the side with Roy.

"Hey! Guys, stop him!"

"Ow." Rubbing his forehead, Johnny saw Captain Stanley running after the man with the burns, the night watchman waddling behind them. Flailing his arms, he stumbled to his feet and almost tripped over Roy as he was getting up. They ran after the others.

The young man was thin and nimble and panicked. He dodged the three firemen before tugging open a door of the building and diving inside. Three firemen rushed inside after him. Then Captain Stanley.

"What's in there?" Roy stopped by the puffing, portly watchman, just outside the open door.

"Just," pant, pant, "the shipping area," pant, pant, "and my office."

"Is there another exit?" Johnny saw huge boxes, racks and shadowy industrial-sized shelving in the overhead half-light inside.

Still gasping for breath, the watchman shook his head. "Just the doors to the other parts of the building and the garage door on the other side, and those are all locked." Pant, pant.

"Are you all right?" Roy put his hand on the older man's broad shoulder.

"Oh, yeah." He brushed off Roy's concern. Johnny saw a big grin under the large mustache on his face. "Go on and get him. I'll stay out here and wait for the cops."

"You're sure?" Roy took a step toward the door, but still hesitated.

"Yeah, yeah. Go on. Go get him."

Johnny followed Roy inside. Fewer than half the overhead lights were on among the metal rafters in the high ceiling above.

"Roy! John! Stay on the door!" They saw Captain Stanley emerge from the end of the long aisle in front of them. They heard footsteps, quiet sounds with no distinguishable location in the large room. Johnny caught a glimpse of a fire helmet moving among huge cardboard boxes behind metal shelves.

"We're not going to hurt you." Captain Stanley slowly paced toward them. He looked to his left, to his right, down the aisles of tall metal racks of boxes and round storage bins. "We just want to talk. And you still need to have those burns looked at."

Johnny heard a siren, quickly rising in volume outside. The watchman called out directions to the arriving police officers.

Stanley ducked out of sight to the left. Johnny saw the top of a knit cap pop up and vanish over a shelf on his right.

"Cap! Over There!"

Running to the tall shelves, Johnny skidded to a stop, seeing nothing but an empty aisle leading to a wall of boxes on the far wall. Did he see him in this aisle? Or was it the next one? Could he be hiding between the boxes on the lowest shelf? Walking down the aisle, he looking on both sides.

Things thumped above him. He looked up.

Something dark and large fell down at him.

Arms coming up to protect his face and ducking his head down, he pushed himself back against stacks of boxes to brace himself.

"Hey!"

"Get him!"

"Johnny!"

Widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda-widda.

"All right hold it right there!"

Running footsteps. The lights came up.

Canvas covered sleeves clutched tightly over his face, Johnny slowly lowered arms, un-hunched his shoulders and lifted his head.

Widda. Widda. Widda.

He saw white. He tilted his head back. Looked up into the gaping maw of a huge bin, tipped over on its side on the top shelf of the rack, now leaning across the aside where he stood. Small polystyrene bits still tumbled down out of it, a little flurry left over from the big avalanche, now a pile around him that went up past his knees.

Roy stood staring, just outside the edge of the white fluffy mess. By the door, three policemen and the night watchman surrounded the man in the knit cap. Three firemen joined them.

Chet Kelly joined Roy. He looked up at the bin and the rack, top resting on stacked boxes on the opposite side of the aisle over Johnny, still crouched and braced for disaster to fall on him.

"Wow, Roy. Do you think we'll need the Jaws to get him out of that?"

Roy grinned. "And the K12 at least."

"Oh very funny, guys." Johnny dropped his arms and walked forward.

Widda, widda, widda, widda, widda, widda, widda, widda, widda. Widda, widda, widda, widda, widda, widda. Widda, widda, widda, widda.

The ultra-light packing material didn't impede him at all, but it was everywhere. Each little white puff seemed to want to cling to him. Moving away from the pile, he tried brushing them off, but they just stuck to him somewhere else with staticky tenacity. Roy reached up and brushed some off the rim of his helmet and a few attached themselves to the sleeve of his turnout coat.

Chet backed away. "Oh, don't get that stuff on me."

"Roy, Johnny." Captain Stanley beckoned them over, Johnny trailing white styrene as he went. "Is this guy going to need an ambulance for those burns?" Two policemen stood on either side of the injured man, one cop on each arm. His sleeves were still pushed back and he now openly winced from the pain.

Roy nodded back. "They really should be taken care of at the hospital."

Mike was sent to radio for an ambulance and Roy ran out to get the drug box and biophone. Johnny sat the injured man down in a chair from the watchman's office. Flanked by two deputies, the injured man admitted that his name was Dennis Hartley, but he had already been read his rights by the cops and he wasn't saying much besides that.

Roy came back with the equipment and they called the hospital. And got an irate reply from Doctor Bracket about calling in earlier and then not answering. He tersely accepted their apology and demanded the victim's vital signs.

While they worked, Officers Howard and Baker berated Captain Stanley for trying to capture Hartley before they arrived.

"The guy's a fire bug, Vince!"

"He's an 'alleged' fire bug for now."

Chet Kelly jumped in to defend his captain. "Well, what are we supposed to do? Just let him get away? Guy's been setting trash fires for months."

Marco Lopez spoke up as well. "Yeah, we're just supposed to let him escape so he can do it again? What happens when he goes for something bigger next time?"

"And are all you firemen moolighting as judges and juries, too? What were you planning to do if he was armed?" Officer Baker got only sullen mumbles for a reply.

Johnny tensed. He had gone after Hartley as soon as he caught a glimpse of him. After the Captain had told him to stay by the door with Roy. What would have happened if the man had dropped something heavier on him than a bin of packing material? Less than a day after Captain Stanley had warned him about rushing in without thinking, he'd managed to do it again.

Gage's eyes flicked toward the group. Mike Stoker hadn't said anything, but he stalwartly stood at his captain's shoulder and all four firemen glared back at the cops who continued with their stern lecture about cops catching the criminals and firemen putting out the fires.

They heard a siren outside and saw the ambulance pulling up through a window. The man's arms were covered and he could walk on his own. Everyone filed out of the building into the dark parking lot, now illuminated by the flashing lights of the police cars and ambulance. A sheriff's deputy stayed close to Hartley.

"Try not to get that stuff in the squad." Roy pointed at the stray bits of packing styrene still clinging to him before climbing into the ambulance with Hartley and the deputy. Johnny closed the door and pounded on it twice when it was secure. The ambulance drove away.

Trying to brush off the white styrene, Gage turned toward the squad. Another hand brushed at the bits on his arm, then the back of his turnout coat and his pants leg.

Captain Stanley stepped back. "Boy, Gage, you've really got that stuff all over you."

"Yeah." They got most of it off. Stanley shook his hands, standing back to keep it from sticking to him.

Johnny swatted harder at the last few stubborn white bits left. "Cap, sorry I ran after that guy like that." Exasperated with himself, he dropped his arms at his sides. "You talked to me about doing things like that this morning and I completely forgot about it."

He looked back at Stanley, but the Captain only seemed surprised. Then he smiled. And put a hand on his shoulder and laughed. "Gage, I'll remind you about that later. Just as soon as I learn how to take my own advice."

Johnny stared back before he connected what Stanley had said about going in without thinking and the lecture that the cops had just delivered. "Oh. Yeah." He grinned back in sympathy. Stanley patted his back.

"Go on to the hospital. We're stuck here until the investigators get here. You and Roy will probably get back to the station before we do." Stanley moved off to join the others. Marco, Mike and Chet had gone back to finishing up breaking down the fire, but just enough to make sure it was out. Gage jogged back to the squad.

"Hey Gage!"

He turned back to Stanley, who waved his hand at him. Johnny looked down at himself - - he could still see a few bits of white styrene - - and then up.

"Try not to get that stuff in the squad."

**

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=^=^=^= =^=^=^= END =^=^=^= =^=^=^=**

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to Mark VII Productions, Inc., Universal Studios and whoever else owns the 1970's TV show Emergency!; I am just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
